SYMPATHY FROM A DEVIL
by lazarus wolf
Summary: Set just a few years after Lara's parents vanished. Roth's pride almost cost him his chance to be Lara's mentor... if not for the intervention of an unlikely benefactor - Amanda Evert's father. Oneshot.


New York City, 3:35 am - 1998

Reyes had hit harder, but still... owwww!

He lay on the floor, 'Fucked the pooch again old man,' he thought as the bald gorila pulled him to his feet, his hands tied behind his back by a hard plastic, looped tie. All around him the remains of his valiant defense of his missing friend's honor: three bleeding wise-asses, two bruised bouncers, and one man laying still, the only indication of life being the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He was grateful not one of them had died, had Grimm been here, it may have been a different outcome. Still, it was bad, very bad; and he may not leave New York City for too long a time. Poor girl, some job he naused up.

The giant manhandling him sat him down in a chair, then crossed his thickly muscled arms across his broad chest and stared at the dazed former Royal Marine Commando with a look of measured caution. Roth knew enough about people of the street, and of the killing kind to know a proffesional when he saw one. The guy may not have seemed little more than a dumb musclehead to the average person, but to Roth, he knew, this man was death. He was big, solid, and quiet. Not because he was of limited intellect or vocabulary as too many drunk, and otherwise idiots had thought, but because he knew all that mind game bs was meaningless to him; what mattered, was the threat. Roth was grateful the giant had respected him enough to bother with fighting him face to face; yet understood enough about Roth's reasons for fighting, that he had held back from doing any real, perminent damage.

"Got a smoke?" Roth had asked after a few minutes.

The huge man simply grinned, "Fraid not. Gave it up. Might wanna try it yerself."

Roth was astonished, "How long ago?"

"A month."

Roth coughed in astonishment, "No shitting me?"

The giant nodded.

"Fuck." Roth had no idea just how in control the big man had been. Most people who quit were like caged rabid dogs in stressful situations. He felt lucky to be alive. "Where are the cops?"

"Never called em," The big man said softly, his eyes turning to the front of the small bar.

"Thanks," Roth sighed.

"Actually," the giant rumbled under his breath, "you might wanna hold off on that. You might just want to kill me... Captain Roth. I'm sorry."

The door to the bar opened, and in strode a man in a carefuly tailored silk suit. On his fingers he had three rings, one a wedding band, the next a class ring from Harvard, and the third, a simple thick gold ring - once wore by a Roman senator who would one day be crowned Ceasar. He knew the man even without seeing his face. The white blond hair, and red ruby pendant that hung around his neck gave him away.

"What the hell do you want... Evert?"

The new man's mocking laughter all but shook the glasses in their trays behind the bar. "HELLO TO YOU TOO CONRAD. Can I call you Conrad?"

Roth bristled at the man's obvious sense of superiority, and grating sarcasm. "Get to your point. I have a cot in a cell to warm."

Evert laughed, "FUCK! But you are a hard ass aren't you? Man I fucking love you English fuckers!"

Roth wasn't going to bother to correct him regarding his nationality... Evert had said it on purpose.

"The fucking 'stones' on this limey fucker 'I got a cot in a jail cell to warm' hehehe ehhhh... Says who?" the pompus fucker asked with no trace of any emotion, his eyes staring right into Roth's. "I don't recall anyone here... in MY bar - that I bought... cheap two nights ago , when I heard you were on a tear... Captain Conrad Roth of the good fucking ship 'lolly pop'. known in certain 'dark' corners as THE best smuggler money can't buy. Not that I wasn't generous in my past offers... wasn't I? Conrad? - Calling anyone but me. So, whatever happens next is entirely up to you."

Roth was caught off guard, he looked about himself. What could this fucker offer him that he thought he would accept? He had nothing to take, nothing of any worth to offer to the cockey prick in the whole world. He'd even let his crew go to exhaust his finances in this fruitless search for his friends, perhapse the prick hadn't heard, he smiled, "I aint got a fucking crew for my ship you twit. Call the cops and go fuck yourself ..."

"I know...," Evert said with the same blank expression, then smiled wide, "I see the defeat in you... sad. But you shouldn't be so anxious to just hop into the hands of fate Captain. Remember... you have a responsability." he held up a photo of sad, pretty little Lara Croft, taken with a telephoto zoom lens. "Did you know her mother's brother filled her ancestral home in Surrey with armed guards? What do you suppose that sort of thing does to the mind of a young woman, still hoping for a reunion with her parents... a reunion you have been going broke trying to provide? You're stuborn Roth. Give up this self-loathing. Give it up and honor your promse to the man who saved your life in Desert Storm... do it for her."

"Fuck you. You only give a shit about one thing: besting Rene Dupont. You've always wanted to one up him. YOU 'give it up'... Kyle."

"You're right. I do want to one up that old arms dealer. You should know, you and Croft had dealings with him for years... you BOTH did him 'favors' to feed his obsession with antiques while using the cash he funneled into Croft's coffers to fuel his lordships Windmill chasing dragon hunts. Tell me Roth, did 'Dicky' ever bag the Easter Bunny?"

Roth stared daggers at the man before him.

"So," Evert finaly finished, "Here is what I offer you. Twenty million dollars full of amnesia for all these people, the police, as well as a sizable pre-renumeration, leading to the rebuilding of your finances; a crew for your ship; and a guarantee that that certain someone in London, the one putting the screws to you legaly over the validity of Crofts note declaring you his daughters legal guardian, will never hear of this. Just imagine, all your failures wiped clean. A chance to make good on your word. Get her out of that house Roth; trust me, you should see my little Amanda... poor girl... won't stop trying to 'contact' her dead mother. Sad."

"And you want?" Roth stated bluntly, wanting to end this quick.

Evert smiled wide, "I do like you Roth, no nonsence. Here it is: I have need of a maritime reaserch vessel - deep sea exploring, and salvage... without owning one at all - and I need it a week ago. Got me?"

Roth took a deep breath, "Got a smoke?" he sighed.

Evert pulled a pack of Roth's personal favorite brand from his coat, took one out, and held it up... waiting, "So, are we negotiating... Captain Roth?"

Roth took a second to push down his pride. 'Do it for her old man.' He looked into Evert's eyes, "Go on."


End file.
